


Coronation Night

by Fitzrovia



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 04:29:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12951318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fitzrovia/pseuds/Fitzrovia
Summary: “How would you have me?”Damen barely stifled a groan as Laurent ran his tongue up his neck. “It’s not my coronation night.”





	Coronation Night

It was either very late at night or very early in the morning. Damen was lying horizontally, stomach down, on the giant bed in the royal chambers of Marlas. A dying fire lulled in the hearth, and the light of a few oil lamps danced against the thick stone walls.

His head buzzed from one drink too many. He’d done his best not to get too carried away during Laurent’s coronation, but Makedon, being Makedon, had cornered him more than a few times and insisted on generously toasting the new King of Vere.

The door opened and shut behind him, and Damen flipped onto his back, entwining his fingers behind his head. Cheeks flushed, Laurent smiled. His ceremonial garb had been removed – stored for safekeeping – though he still wore a finely-tailored Veretian garment fit only for a king.

In the comfort of their room, Laurent rolled his neck in a few easy circles and pulled the laces of his shirt loose.

“My King,” Damen said with a hint of fond teasing. “Do you feel any different?”

Laurent pulled off the fine black shirt, leaving only his white undershirt beneath. “You’ve heard the phrase ‘heavy is the head that wears the crown?’”

“Of course.”

He rubbed at his temples. “I suddenly find myself wondering how literally that’s meant to be taken.”

Damen laughed as Laurent made his way over to the bed. He cocked an eyebrow, smiling bemusedly down at Damen.

“One of the biggest beds in all of Akielos and Vere, and still you manage to spread yourself out over the entire surface.”

Damen moved over to accommodate Laurent, and Laurent propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at Damen with a crooked grin.

“What is it?” Damen asked.

“Lamen,” Laurent said, barely keeping himself together. “Why are you dressed up like the King?”

Damen burst into a fit of laughter that almost exceeded the first time he’d heard those words. Charls, confused, had to wait for Damen and Laurent to finish with their less-than-kingly guffawing before they could explain Lamen’s identity in the plainest terms possible. Somewhere in Charls’s silk-and-chiffon-tangled mind, the final stitch came together, and his expression turned from one of shock and confusion to complete, unabashed mortification as he dropped to his knee and frantically mumbled apologies for having ordered the King of Akielos to skin rabbits.

When they’d finished laughing, Damen said, “I like being him, sometimes. Lamen.”

Laurent inched closer to Damen and laid his head on his chest. Damen wrapped his arm around him.

“Me, too,” said Laurent. “Sometimes it’s nice to just… be.”

Damen hummed a wordless agreement. “Though it was disheartening to hear that Vere's most renowned cloth merchant thought of me as nothing more than your temporary lovemaking accessory while you were away from your beloved Damianos.”

Laurent shifted his blue gaze up toward Damen, its sharpness softened by familiarity and happy fatigue. “Charls thought highly of Lamen, in his own way.”

“What if I _were_ just Lamen?”

“You’re not.”

Damen tucked a piece of gold hair behind Laurent’s ear. “Humor me.”

Laurent laughed against Damen’s chest. He sat up and cupped Damen’s jaw. “Our scandal would be one for the history books. I would insist on bringing you everywhere. Or, perhaps, never letting you leave my bedroom.”

Damen nuzzled Laurent’s neck. “Hmm, that doesn’t sound so bad.”

“And what if I were just Charls?”

Their game of what-ifs turned sour in Damen’s mind. He couldn’t control the thought of thousands of faceless, shapely bodies that had been forced to bow and serve Akielon royalty for generations.

“If you were just Charls,” said Damen. “I wouldn’t be the king I am today. I wouldn’t be hunting down slavers.” _I’d be keeping them in business,_ he didn’t say.

“You’ve said it before. Akielos is a slave culture.”

“Is blindness in the face of human suffering ever an excuse?”

Laurent toyed with the gold band on Damen’s wrist, not absentmindedly. “You would have changed. With or without me.”

His eyes were so overwhelmingly sincere in their conviction that it almost hurt to look at them.

“Laurent, I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

He kissed Damen lightly on the lips. “I daresay you’d have been dead a few times over.”

Damen smiled as one kiss became another, and then another. When they pulled away, he said, “Yes, well, you would have, too.”

Laurent emitted a slight, warm laugh and kissed Damen again. Damen wrapped an arm around Laurent’s back and pulled him closer. Their kisses at first were sweet, sincere, and tender. Then that sudden, inexplicable heat stirred between them, as it always did, and Laurent kissed him more fervently. Damen opened his mouth, and Laurent’s tongue slid in, warm and wanting. Damen welcomed it as Laurent positioned himself above him.

The first shift in Laurent’s pelvis, purposeful or not, sent Damen reeling. He’d had Laurent like this – or, rather, Laurent had had him like this – more times than he could count. But whether it was the first time or the fiftieth or the thousandth, it didn’t matter.

Laurent leaned back and rolled his hips – this time, very purposefully. Hair mussed, his eyes were lidded in lust. Damen couldn’t look away.

Laurent leaned down, his lips brushing Damen’s ear. “How would you have me?”

Damen barely stifled a groan as Laurent ran his tongue up his neck. “It’s not my coronation night.”

Reaching down, Laurent ran his hand down the front of Damen’s pants, his fingers bumping across the laces. “You’re wearing Veretian clothing.”

“You’re about as observant as Charls.” Damen’s voice was gruff as he gripped Laurent’s ass and pushed their bodies together.

Laurent’s back arched in pleasure. “You were wearing a chiton earlier.”

“King _Damianos_ had an obligation to wear a chiton to King Laurent’s coronation. _Damen_ is cold, and does not have an obligation to wear a chiton in Laurent’s bedroom.”

“ _Damen_ doesn’t have an obligation to wear _anything_ in Laurent’s bedroom.” Laurent ran splayed fingers under Damen’s shirt and up his stomach. “But if you’re so cold, perhaps we should keep these on.”

“Laurent,” Damen’s moan held a mixture of lust and amusement. “Now is not the time to fall back into your role as the frigid prince.”

“That’s the frigid _king_ to you.”

“We’ll see about that.” Damen pulled Laurent’s shirt up and over his head, exposing milky skin and a slender and beautifully carved abdomen. Overcome with a need to take, Damen flipped Laurent over onto his back and kissed him deeply, and together they found a rhythm in their hips. He ran kisses down Laurent’s neck and took a pert nipple between his teeth.

Laurent wound his fingers in Damen’s hair, and with a strong, purposeful shove, pushed him downward. “I can think of something else you can do with your mouth.”

Damen nipped at the strings in the front of Laurent’s pants, his hardness pressing against his lips through the thick brocade.

First Damen used his fingers to loosen the laces, and then he pulled them up with his teeth, the crudeness of the act having its desired effect on Laurent as he pushed his hips up and slid his thumbs into the waist of his pants to remove them. They caught on Laurent’s boots – which had happened more than a few times – and Damen laughed as he yanked them off and threw them aside with Laurent’s pants.

“You wear boots in bed, but yell at me for taking up space?”

“Damen.” Laurent’s voice was filled with frustration of the best kind. “Are you ever going to suck my cock?”

Grinning, he teased Laurent’s legs open and snaked between them, enjoying the thought of his nude flesh against his fully-clothed figure.  Slowly he began kissing the inside of Laurent’s thighs. Laurent squirmed against his touch, and Damen nipped at the tender flesh.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Laurent moaned. Propping himself up on his elbow, he reached down and entwined his hand in Damen’s curls, pushing him closer to what he craved. Damen obliged, licking him slowly from base to tip. Laurent let out a quiet growl.

“You like that?” Damen whispered against the silky skin.

“Unless you can talk and pleasure me with your mouth at the same time, I suggest you shut up.”

Damen playfully took the tip in his mouth and released it with a pop. “If anyone could craft a way to suck cock and spew insults at the same time, it’s you.”

“I’m not sure if that’s flattery or mockery.”

“What can I say?” Damen gave him another brief, playful lick. “You’re rubbing off on me.”

As if that gave him an idea, Laurent sat up and guided Damen into a seated position.

“You have entirely too many clothes on.” Laurent pulled the already loose laces on Damen’s shirt, leaned in, and kissed him deeply again and again, breaking only to pull the shirt off.

With both hands, he pushed Damen down, their heads at the foot of the bed. Laurent’s fingertips ran across the familiar bumps and grooves of Damen’s chest. After so many months of making love to Damen, his newly-honed skills in the bedroom were not unlike his swordfighting ones: refined, precise, and a bit dirty. He knew exactly how to use his body to reduce Damen into a lust-filled fool who would beg for anything.

Laurent raked his teeth against Damen’s collarbone, sucking a hard circle at his nape that would undoubtedly leave a mark. Not bothering with the laces on his pants, Laurent reached a hand into them and wrapped his hand around Damen, working him. He lifted his head and looked Damen straight in the eye. Damen couldn’t look away. He wanted Laurent to take whatever he desired.

Removing his hand, Laurent grinded against Damen, and Damen pushed upward against the hot pressure of Laurent’s growing tension. Damen dug his short fingernails into the soft, porcelain flesh of Laurent’s ass. Laurent pulled Damen’s hands away from him and shoved them down on the bed, pinning him with his strong arms.

If Damen could fight him off, he didn’t want to.  Taking a knee in front of Damen’s chest, Laurent braced himself on the bedframe. Damen licked his lips and parted his mouth, letting Laurent slip his cock down his throat in one single slide.

Damen opened his mouth wide as Laurent drove his hips into Damen’s face. He pulled out almost all the way before sliding back down his throat. Damen wound an arm around Laurent’s backside, pushing him deeper each time.

There was a time when Damen couldn’t have done this _quite_ so well. Before his time with Laurent, he was more than practiced in this art as long as he were the one in control of how deeply he could take it. But it didn’t take Laurent long to realize he liked taking control of Damen’s mouth. That he desired nothing more than to fuck as deeply into him as Damen would let him.

At first it had been an entirely new experience. He wasn’t the one making Laurent squirm with subtle nips and licks and teasing, lingering bobs of his head. His mouth and throat were merely vessels for Laurent to take whatever pleasure he wanted. And take he would – despite Damen’s choking and gagging in the early days.

Laurent had trained any remnant of that out of Damen, and his throat opened again and again as Laurent thrust into him. He groaned against the sensation of having Laurent so deep, and Laurent threw his head back as Damen’s voice, deep and lustful, vibrated against him.

Pulling out of Damen’s mouth, Laurent slid down his frame and laid a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss on the lips that had so recently claimed his cock.

“Incredible.” Laurent breathed into Damen’s ear as his fingers undid the laces of Damen’s pants. In one motion he yanked them down to his knees, and, not taking his eyes off of Damen, wrapped his hand around him and worked him with slow jerks of his wrist. Damen squirmed and melted in Laurent’s hand, letting go of whatever remaining control he had.

“Let’s see how _you_ like being teased.” Laurent released his grip on Damen and removed his pants the rest of the way, discarding them somewhere on the floor. Stooping over Damen, he pressed the tip of his tongue into the slit of his cock and rolled his tongue slowly around the head.

“ _Laurent,_ ” Damen said.

“What’s wrong?” Laurent ran his tongue sloppily along Damen’s shaft, a trail of spit connecting it to his mouth. “Do you want more?”

Damen moved to push Laurent’s head down on him, but Laurent caught his wrist. He took two of Damen’s fingers suggestively into his mouth.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Damen said.

Laurent released Damen’s fingers. “That’s the plan.”

Positioning himself above Damen, he began rocking his hips again. Damen threw his head back at the sensation of – finally – having Laurent’s bare flesh against his own. Palms pressed into the mattress, Laurent picked up their pace, and Damen pushed up against the pressure, craving more.

Subtle as it was, Laurent knew him. Every inch of him. Anticipated exactly what he wanted. He laid another sloppy kiss on Damen’s mouth and reached for a small vial in the nightstand. Resting between Damen’s legs, he slicked up a finger and pressed it against him. At the sensation of the liquid, warmed by his lover’s hand, Damen groaned.

He let his body relax as Laurent’s first finger slid in easily, a practiced and gentle maneuver they both knew well. Laurent moved his finger forward and backward, Damen matching his rhythm.

A second finger. Damen accepted it readily, and Laurent thrust his hand faster. A third finger opened him more, but it still wasn’t enough. Damen wanted – needed – Laurent to fill him. To ride him. To empty himself inside of him.

Damen groaned at the thought of it.

“Tell me what you want,” Laurent said.

“You know what I want.”

Laurent took Damen’s cock into his mouth, the thrusts of his fingers still sending Damen reeling. When he released Damen, he said, “ _Tell_ me.”

His mouth was on Damen again, bobbing up and down his length.

“I want you inside me,” Damen heard himself say. “I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk.”

Eyes darkening with overwhelming hunger, Laurent slid Damen’s cock out of his mouth and removed his fingers. For a moment he just stared at Damen, the inches between them screaming for more. Damen placed a pillow underneath himself to better their angle.

Licking his lips, Laurent pressed himself against Damen’s opening. “A bit eager, are we?”

“For you,” Damen said, “Always.”

One simple thrust, and Laurent slid effortlessly into Damen. His cock, slicked and throbbing, filled Damen with a passionate familiarity. Holding Damen’s thighs up, Laurent set their rhythm, moving his hips back and forth slowly like he was drinking in every inch of Damen’s expanse. A sudden jerk forward – harder – hit Damen just there, and he involuntarily bucked his hips up. Laurent was moving faster now, and Damen wrapped a hand around his own cock, letting Laurent’s movement set his pace.

Laurent looked down at him, his bottom lip swollen as his teeth bit down on it. Letting go of Damen’s hips, he dipped down and buried his face in Damen’s chest. Damen rocked up, taking Laurent’s length as deep into himself as he could, letting Laurent slam into the center of his pleasure again and again.

“Harder,” Damen whispered a hot breath into Laurent’s ear.

Laurent stopped moving. He pressed his forehead against Damen’s, and Damen felt his muscles clench around Laurent. Laurent leaned back and slipped out.

“What are you –”

“You said you wanted it harder,” said Laurent.

Holding Damen’s hips, Laurent thrust suddenly back into him in one movement. There was no guiding, no warning. Just a simple, singular fuck. Damen let out a gasp, deep and hungry. Laurent pulled out again. And thrust back in.

Damen saw stars.

“Do you like that?” Laurent pulled out again, his cock lingering on Damen’s entrance.

“Yes,” Damen managed.

Laurent pounded in again. “The King of Akielos is loose enough to be slammed into like some Veretian pet.”

The thought of it—of being so open, so loose, that Laurent could fuck him whenever he pleased – practically sent Damen over the edge. “I’m so close. Fuck me.”

Laurent pushed into Damen, hard and fast. Encumbered with need, Damen worked himself with his hand. Laurent leaned over Damen again, hands on each side of his shoulders, sweat beading on his brow as he drove himself toward completion. Damen came in a flurry of white hot pleasure, spilling over his stomach as Laurent released inside of him. He gave a few more slow thrusts, riding it out.

Smiling, Laurent lingered inside Damen for a moment before he pulled out and sprawled himself next to him.

Damen noticed, in the back of his mind, a small streak of his come on Laurent’s chest. “You’ve got something on you.”

Laurent looked down, scooped it up on his finger, and licked it off. “So do you.”

He sat up and licked the streams off Damen’s abdomen with sensual swipes of his tongue. Then, resting his arms on Damen’s chest, Laurent kissed him. The bitter, salty taste of himself mixed in his mouth as their tongues mingled.

“So?” Laurent asked.

“So what?”

Cheeks already rosy from exertion, Laurent blushed further. “You _know_ what.”

“It was… incredible. If that’s what you’re asking.”

“Then it wasn’t…”

“It wasn’t what?”

“Too much?”

As Damen turned over on his side to face Laurent, the sensation of their act began to spill from him. The thought of it awakened a dim, if tired, arousal.

“Laurent.” Damen pulled his lover closer, running a hand down the groove of his spine. “You are – antithetically and eternally – always too much, and never enough.”

“Good,” said Laurent, sounding pleased, “Because I’m not finished with you.”


End file.
